Picture You
by bia-douwata-13
Summary: A three one-shot series, including my Artsy!AU and my otps: Alfred is a photographer, who loves to focus on his boyfriend, Arthur. Tino's the inspiration for Berwald's poems. And Gil tries to woo Matt with a French song! USUK, SuFin, PruCan, in name of love and life!
1. PruCan

Matthew tugged up his jeans and pushed his hoodie down, as he got up from his couch. Taking off the empty glass and plate, he followed to kitchen, after the hockey game was off. He turned off the TV as he went to make the dishes. A soft yawn told him that it was nearly bed time. He brushed of his bangs away from his eyes and thought about Gil. Lately, he has been into Matt's dreams and thoughts, even when he didn't want him to be.

"I just wanted not to feel." the boy muttered to himself. He could never say what their "relationship" was about at first.

Mattie was a Psychology freshman and the albino was in the third year of his Music Major. Both of them met when he was struggling to find where his classes were. His first attempts at getting anyone's attention were awful, but the other seemed to come to his rescue that day. Matt couldn't help but to be aware of the other male attractive features and his striking blood red eyes. They went around the building and ended skipping class, so Gil could give him a full tour. They swapped numbers and texted each other in the next day.

Things kept like this for months. They hung out nearly all the weekends, only the two, or with the loud and funny friends of Gil. The usually shy Canadian started blooming into someone with sense of humor and wit when he was with Gilbert. Thanks to those times with his other friends, his limited friendship circle grew. Once the albino said to Mattie:

"You know why I keep telling everyone that I'm awesome?"

"Hum, because you're conceited?" Matt offered, receiving a glare.

"The answer is no, Birdie. Because if you say it out loud, it's ought to be truth. And I believe both of us are awesome."

"Oh, I'm flattered..." the blond laughed, but it was a good advice.

His confidence was anything but scattered all around, but, in one year, he tried his best to stand up for himself. And he couldn't help but thank the other for that. When he finished the dishes, he noticed how much time he'd spent spacing out. It was around 11:00 P.M. and he had boring-ass classes in the morning. He crossed the kitchen and went upstairs to get ready to bed, when he heard some noises coming from the outside. A stone hit his window and he glared at it, walking up to open it. When he looked down, he saw the well known bright smile, matching the red eyes. He had set up a microphone, his guitar and brought Roderich and keyboard along too.

"Hey, Birdie! Pay attention, because your awesome friend has something to sing to you." he pointed up at the blushing blond.

"_Alors tu vois, comme tout se mêle _(_So you see, as everything gets mixed_)

_Et du coeur à tes lèvres, je deviens un casse-tête _(And from the heart to your lips, I become your puzzle)

_Ton rire me crie, de te lâcher_ (Your laughing screams I should let you go)

_Avant de perdre prise, et d'abandonner _(Before losing grip and giving up)

_Car je ne t'en demanderai jamais autant _('cause I will never ask that much of you)

_Déjà que tu me traites, comme un grand enfant _(You already treat me like a big child)

_Et nous n'avons plus rien à risquer_ (And we don't have anything left to risk)

_A part nos vies qu'on laisse de coté_ (Apart from our lives we leave beside)

_Et il m'aime encore, et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort _(And you still love me, and I love you a bit more)

_Mais il m'aime encore, et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort _(But you still love me, and I love you a bit more)"

His thick, German accent, made the song sound even more emotional and Matt smiled, leaning against the window. As Roderich and Gilbert played, before the albino started singing again.'He's singing in French',he thought, feeling the happiness burst as a bubble inside of him. 'He's singing in French for me..." He still couldn't shake off the fact... Gill was clueless about French all the time, even if one of his best friends, Francis, was French. The other never felt slightly inclined to learn, nor asked it to him.

"_C'en est assez de ces dédoublements _(I've had it with these splits)

_C'est plus dure à faire, qu'autrement _(It's harder to do than other times)

_Car sans rire c'est plus facile de rêver_ (Because without laughing, it's easier to dream)

_A ce qu'on ne pourra, jamais plus toucher _(about what we will never be able to touch again)

_Et on se prend la main, comme des enfants_ (and we're holding hands, like children)

_Le bonheur aux lèvres, un peu naïvement_ (Happiness on our lips, a bit naïvely)

_Et on marche ensemble, d'un pas décidé_ (And we walk together, with determined steps)

_Alors que nos têtes nous crient de tout arrêter _(While our heads scream we should stop the whole thing)

_Il m'aime encore, et toi tu t'aime un peu plus fort _(He still loves me and you, you love me a bit more)

_Mais il m'aime encore, et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort _(But he still loves me and I, I love you a bit more)

_Et malgré ça, mais il m'aime encore, et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort _(And despite that, he still loves me and I love you a bit more)"

And still, he was there, playing his guitar, singing his heart out. Matthew recognized the melody of "Comme des Enfants" by Coeur de Pirate, one of his favorites. He ever had the CD at home..."Oh Gil..." he muttered, smiling. He ran ways from the room, going downstairs as quick as he could without tripping. He opened the door, in time enough to listen to the last words.

"_Mais il m'aime encore, et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort_ (He still loves me and I, I love you a bit more)

_Encore, et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort _(Still, and I, I love you a bit more)

_Mais il m'aime encore, et moi je t'aime un peu plus fort_ (But he still loves me and I love you a bit more)"

"Birdie! Do you want to be my boyfriend?" he asked, being loud as always, even if his Canadian was in front of him. He tucked his hand out, and Matthew took it, only to pull the other for a deep kiss. If it wasn't Roderich uncomfortable groaning, they wouldn't have pulled out. "So, the answer is yes."

"Yes, Gil! Yes! Je t'aime." he hugged the other tightly, a bit shaken from the demonstration.

"Ich liebe ditch, mein Birdie..." the albino nuzzled Matt's neck. "I'll take those stuff to his car and..."

"You'll spend the night." the blonde stated, his voice a bit too high for his tastes. "You can't refuse."

"I would never... Maybe I can sing you to sleep."


	2. SuFin

Saying that Berwald was no good with words was a lie. He was gifted, as Tino and some of their friends would say. Tino could'nt have imagined that the man could put magic on the words he wrote. When they first saw each other, in the cafe, Berwald was too busy, his face shoved into a romantic book. But his words... They spoke to his heart, to his soul. Sometimes, the swede would whisper something on his ear, over his milk-pale skin, something meaningful, something out of his endless poems and novels about him. Berwald was so reserved that most people could think he was mute.

But Tino well knew that it wasn't the case. Although, sometimes, when more inspired than normal, Berwald didn't speak and the only noise that came from him were grunts and the pen scratching the paper. But, with or without spoken words, his eyes never abandoned Tino. When they were getting ready for work in the morning, when they were eating… Those deep blue-green stare could see through him, see what was inside his pounding heart.

When their relationship started, Berwald still felt a bit self-conscious about writing about TIno next to him. But one way, when Tino had left his slumber due their post-sex cuddling, he saw the man looking at him and then looking back at his notebook, writing frantically before stopping and looking at the Finnish man again, as if he was the fuel for that display. Biting his lip, Tino sat and tried to read what Berwald was writing.

"Angel

There's a angelic being in my arms tonight

His smile is contagious

While he asks me to spend the night

His soft purple eyes

His lips that fit so well in mine

There's no way to disguise

That this person is divine

It doesn't have wings

But either way I'm in his

His stares wipe over my sins

He smiles from above

My everything he is

And I won't deny I'm in love"

The tall man let him see the poem and a slight blush crept over his stoic features. It was the first time Tino ever saw him blushing. He could see the scowl turn into a somewhat uneasy face and the smaller bit his lower lip. The taller never told him that he loved him before, but it was clear from there that he did. Maybe even more than Tino though he loved him and it made him smile. The uneasiness faded from Berwald's face and he cupped one of Tino's cheeks, pulling him closer and saying, against the skin of his neck.

"I love you." the words tickled his skin and send down warm shivers. "I love you so much that it scares me. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't... Breathe." the low, husky voice of the man made Tino let out a soft moan, as more and more shivers ran through him. "You're my muse, my everything..."

He then brought his face closer, to finally lean in for a kiss. But before, he muttered something against his lips, too low for Tino to understand. He started nibbling softly the lower lip, a bit swollen from his earlier bite and sucking it, before closing the lips into a deep and passionate kiss. Every single nerve of his body shot awake and he kissed back, searching for Berwald's heat as well. They stopped for him catch his breath and Tino's voice trembled when he said the words.

"I love you too." and he meant it, with every single meaning attached to it. As he nuzzled the other's neck, he couldn't help but feel his chest lighter.

"You're my angel," he muttered at the top of his head. "All pure silk and clouds... Don't fade away, my pretty dream." he started kissing down his forehead, his nose, cheeks and reached out for the smaller's lips again, caressing his back. Everything in that embrace was so perfect, from the heat between their bodies, from the words coming from his boyfriend, his partner, his husband...

He couldn't help but drawn himself closer. That hungry, inspired author was all his. The man couldn't help but feel proud, of himself and of the one he choose. "Tell me more." Tino asked, his voice low and in trance. "I want to hear more..." the words, in that low and deep voice, felt so good against his skin, with the swede's hot breath creeping up and giving him goose bumps. The taller man, that was too busy with his exposed neck, reached up to his ear. "You're sheer perfection, from head to toe. Your eyes, they're sparkling on their own." his thick Swedish accent, overflowing with emotion, made those words feel so truthful. He accidentally slipped on his mother language, "Jag älskar dig, min ängel violetta ögon."

"What?" Tino's smile increased, as if he could feel that the swede said something beautiful again. Even if he was Finnish, he lived in a place where most of the people didn't speak Swedish. "Tell me again..."

"I love you, my angel of violet eyes," the way the words left his mouth were enough to make Tino shudder of pleasure. Berwald came over him, pressing a bit of his weight to keep the man down, before going to his ear again. Now, the smaller couldn't help but blush in a soft pink, making the taller bit his lip in exasperation. Oh God, how much he wanted to immortalize this man in his words and keep him existing until the end of time... That petite, adorable, Finnish man that stole his heart on a random coffee, as he was struggling to finish a book.

And that night, after they made passionate love, Berwald couldn't help but wonder how such an angel came as his inspiration on earth...


	3. USUK

Click. Click.

The perfect portrait of beauty. Alfred thought he should frame it later, but Arthur would probably feel pissed about it. His blond hair was pushed back by the wind, a shadow of a smile crept up on his lips, as he went on his bicycle, getting closer and closer to him. The American was with one knee in the ground, getting the right angle for another shot. The state fair was big and, as a college project, he decided to photograph the main attractions. But, as the boredom struck, and he waited up for Artie, he decided to wait to get the perfect photo.

The man, now wearing his usual scowl, walked up to him, leaving his bicycle in the ground. His deep green eyes were giant and had light of their own, so he refrained to use flash on the pictures. Also, it irritates Arthur's view (and Arthur himself). The other took awhile to get used to Alfred's favorite hobby. Although the boy was fascinated with the newest gadgets and technology, he still had an old Polaroid that he got from his parents. At first, the Brit wasn't too fond of the camera, but now, he had grown used to it.

"Alfred... You know, you should be taking the photos of the fair." it was too much like him, to remind the younger of the work he had to do. After getting up, the blue-eyed man stuck his hand out.

"Will do." he smiled and Arthur took his hand, a nice pink shade covering his usually pale cheeks. If there was something that he loved was when the other blushed. As always, he took a picture of a not so surprised Brit, with his cheeks pink.

"Git, are you going to be wasting all the photos on me?" the Brit frowned, but instead of getting a right answer, another click was heard, along with Alfred's laugh.

"Don't worry. I brought the digital camera for the fair photos... Those are going to our album." he pointed to the mail bag that he always carried around. As they got in, a lot of small places were selling food and other goods. Arthur spotted a place selling old books.

"And since when, my dear, do we have one?" he led the way to it, and the taller just followed.

"Since I can remember knowing you." Alfred admitted, a bit shyly. The other stopped looking at the old, hardcover, copy of "Sense and Sensibility" by Jane Austen, and glanced at those sky-blue eyes.

"So, in the five years we've been friends and then boyfriends, you simply took pictures of me and didn't tell me a thing?" his thick eyebrows made the scowl look more threatening. Alfred grabbed the book, before an old lady took it. "I want to see this 'album' of yours."

"Hey, you knew I was taking pictures. What did you think I'd do with them? Burn? Summon the God of the Eyebrows?" Alfred paid the owner of the place for the book and a copy of "Persuasion", a book by the same author, because he knew Arthur loved those books.

"Not funny at all, Alfred." although a bit mad at the American, he couldn't help but smile a bit at the consideration. "You found Persuasion too? What a great catch... Ugh, still."

"It's easy for you to get mad at me, but it's hard to keep being mad." Al stated, matter-of-factly, as Arthur gave him a soft punch on the side.

"I still want to see it. I won't forget." he huffed, holding the two books closer to his chest now.

"Okay, but first, let's eat. I'm hungry."

"Now tell me something I don't know..."

Both of them made their way to a place selling organic sandwiches. A month before, they made a bet on how many times Al could hang on without McDonald's. He had enduring well so far and the withdrawal had made him more muscular than he was before. When they sat and ate, Alfred noticed more adorable things about him. The adorable way his nose twitched when he chewed, per example. Again, Arthur heard a click and shrugged. After five years, he just knew he wouldn't be free of Alfred's photographs. As they had orange juice, Alfred picked the new photos and gathered them on a pile.

Under the attentive eye of the Brit, Alfred took a big leather photo album from his mail bag, opening on a blank page, nearly in the end of it. He stuck the photos there, he handed it to Arthur, that opened in the first page. A picture of him, in his backyard, plucking some flowers. The light made his hair brighter and made the colors pop. In the corner, one of then, in the beginning of the year, enjoying the end of the turned a few more pages, stunned at the American's ability. Not only to photograph, but arrange those memories perfectly. He noticed something... All those were from this year, and Alfred said he had older photos of them. Five years would overflow the leather album.

"Alfred... Do you have any more of these, don't you..?" all those memories, goods and bad, sent him back on a time tunnel. Now, it was the time for the American to blush.

"...Just four more." he muttered in a low voice and Arthur shot him a glare." I have four more."

"Fine... I want one." the green-eyes man stated. "You're too selfish to keep all those great memories to yourself. I want to keep them too." he sighed.

"Do you really want one?" Alfred's smile was giant and Arthur felt a bit uncomfortable, but happy at the same time. "You know what, Artie? When we're done with this, it'll be yours. For a year of great experiences together, right?" the man gestured for him to come closer, as he took a picture of both together and pasted it in the last page. "I love you, Artie."

"Love you too, Git." he said, receiving a soft kiss in the lips.


End file.
